


Something Unpredictable

by orphan_account



Series: Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, Worldweavers - Multiverse
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Original Character(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Claire and Anthony tentatively continue down the path of friendship they began to walk inDon't Look Back In Anger.
Series: Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002375
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	Something Unpredictable

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Look Back in Anger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470083) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> This was a snippet hastily scribbled on a hellish train journey between Manchester and Edinburgh back in January (in ye olden days when we still went on train journeys, and worked in offices, and a missed connection felt like the end of the world). I have tried a couple of times to add more of a "beginning", but it doesn't seem to want to play. That said, I think it works as an in-world one-shot, though it won't make a lot of sense unless you've read other works in the series.
> 
> Can either be read after _Don't Look Back In Anger_ , or after Chapter 1 of Verhalen's fic _Broken Wings._

_You're over-thinking this,_ Claire told herself, and hit 'dial.'

The phone rang twice before it was answered – though the voice wasn't the one she expected to hear.

“Good morning, Anthony's phone.”

A well-spoken contralto; rich; warm. She recognised it, of course, though even if she hadn't, she'd have been able to guess from context. This was Anthony's mother, Elaine.

“Er – hi. My name's Claire, I'm...” She trailed off. Claiming friendship seemed a stretch, even now. “Anthony and I were at college together. Is he around at all?”

“Hold on a moment, dear.”

Footsteps, followed by the humming of bees and the gentle patter of falling water – a garden hose? – and then a muffled conversation. She recognised Anthony's voice, sharp, exasperated, and made out some of the words.

“Mum. _Mother_...you can't just answer my phone...”

Claire pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at his long-suffering tone when he eventually spoke into the receiver.

“Hi, Claire.”

“Hi.” She swallowed the last of her giggle fit and put on her best mock-serious courtroom voice. “I hope you know you I'm in deep trouble because of you?”

“Ah.” At least he had the grace to sound apologetic. “I take it that Sören isn't best pleased with you.”

“No, and nor is Nicholas. Apparently I had no right to interfere.”

“Well. You didn't.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Did you _have_ to say I'd been to see you?”

“Given the circumstances, I'm surprised that my learned friend would advocate telling anything but the absolute truth.”

“You know, you're bloody impossible.”

“So I should hope.”

She could almost see the smile on his face – cool, aloof, amused – the same one he'd worn during their training days, and later, in court, when he knew he had his opponent on the rocks. Some of that, she knew now, was simply a mask, a game he played – but not all of it. Not quite. “Listen, I was planning on going out to Blackheath this afternoon – there's a bookshop I like, not far from the park –”

“Markinch.”

“Yes,” she replied, slightly taken aback.

“There's no need to sound so astonished; I did grow up here. And I might not have a degree in English Literature, but I do like to read.”

She knew better than to feel surprise that he remembered her degree subject – Anthony forgot nothing he thought might be useful one day – and Sören had told her about Anthony buying him volumes of poetry, before...well. Before everything. Claire nibbled her lip. She'd planned to ask about dropping in on her way back to the station, but after a moment's thought she changed her mind. “Would you like to meet me there?”

“Oh!”

Clearly he hadn't expected that. Her stomach curled and her t-shirt prickled against her collarbone. She hoped she hadn't put him in an embarrassing or difficult position by asking, but it had been clear enough from her last visit that he didn't want pity, and as he'd pointed out, he could always take a cab. Besides, the shop had plenty of nooks with comfortable seats, it was one of the things she liked best about it...

“Actually that would be lovely.” There was genuine warmth in his voice now. “If you're sure you don't mind.”

Claire exhaled with relief. “I wouldn't have offered if I did.” Teasingly, she added, “Though I'm not very sociable when I'm shopping for books. I might forget to talk to you.”

Anthony laughed. “I'd expect nothing else.”

*

Elaine watched from the window seat as Anthony limped out of the driveway, leaning on his cane. “I wish he'd let me give him a lift.”

“Let the boy be.” Roger didn't look up from his copy of _The Times._ “He's only going around the corner. And we can pick him up afterwards, if he needs it.”

“I suppose so.”

Roger sighed. “Look, love, he has to learn for himself what he can and can't do now. And surely it's good that he wants to get out again? After he had that fall in Camden, he wouldn't leave the house for weeks.”

“I know. I know.”

Another sigh, and the rustle of the newspaper being folded. “Who's this girl he's meeting, anyway?”

“Someone he knows from his law conversion course. The one who came to see him the other weekend.” Elaine paused. “Actually, don't quote me on this, but I think she's a friend of Sören's.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“Just a feeling.” It was more than that. The unexpected phone call from Claire a couple of weeks ago had shaken her son, although of course she and Roger had respected his request for privacy when Claire came to the house – and then Anthony had mysteriously vanished for half a day, refusing to say where he was going or why, only that it was nothing bad and she mustn't worry. Ever since then he'd been...if not exactly buoyant then at least hopeful. His smile came naturally again, and his temper – foul since the accident – had settled into something like its old equilibrium. And there had been a girl with Sören when she'd met him at the Opera House gift shop back in March, a girl with a northern accent, who'd looked about the right age to be in the same diploma cohort as Anthony... “I could be wrong.”

But Anthony Wyatt-Jones came by his courtroom instincts honestly. Whatever she might say to keep her husband's hopes in check, Elaine was fairly certain she was right.


End file.
